


Money (That's What I Want)

by ragdoll



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: interhouse_fest, F/M, Flirting, Innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragdoll/pseuds/ragdoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Pansy is in financial straits, she turns to Bill Weasley for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Money (That's What I Want)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elle Blessingway (elle_blessing)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_blessing/gifts).



> This wasn't half as naughty as I thought it would end up being when I picked the prompt, but for some reason these two just wanted to talk and flirt rather than do anything more. I hope my prompter will forgive me for that – I definitely see this as kind of a prologue for something between Bill and Pansy, and want to explore them more in the future.
> 
> Based on the prompt: "I'm quite good at spending money, but a lifetime of outrageous wealth hasn't taught me much about managing it." ~Tyrion Lannister

"So, Miss Parkinson," Bill asked, leaning over his desk and giving her his most cordial smile. "What can I do for you today?"

Pansy Parkinson looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, heaving a dramatic sigh. Even if Bill had not known precisely who she was, he could have hazarded a very good guess. He considered himself a connoisseur of women, knowing them as well as he knew his ancient artefacts. He had known a lot of women in his time, and this one was very special indeed.

She radiated the arrogance of a Pureblood; her makeup flawless, and her glossy black hair pulled up into a neat chignon. This was a witch who was used to getting what she wanted, when she wanted it. However, she'd clearly fallen on hard times. Her form fitting, deep green robes showed signs of wear, as did the soles of her shiny black patent leather stiletto heeled pumps. 

"I need help with my bank account, Mr. Weasley," she replied. Her lips were full and red, and the lower one jutted out into the merest hint of a sultry pout. "There seems to be some problem with it."

Bill resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The 'problem' was that Pansy Parkinson's account was horribly overdrawn, and had been for months. The goblins of Gringotts had put him in charge of dealing with the situation since they didn't want to dirty their hands with 'wizard issues'.

"I was told to speak with you," she continued, then began to rummage through her purse. "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?" 

"No, of course not." 

The words were barely out his mouth before she'd pulled a gold cigarette case from her bag and took out a cigarette. Bill waited until she'd raised it to her lips before gallantly offering her a light with the tip of his wand. The cigarette flared as Pansy took a long drag, inhaling deeply before speaking again.

"As I said, there seems to be some problem with my account." She batted her eyelashes at him, and shifted slightly in her chair so that the slit in her robe parted, revealing her long, shapely, silk stocking-clad legs.

Bill could just make out the lace band around the top, and the creamy skin above it. He doubted it had been accidental. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, forcing himself to pay attention to the matter at hand, rather than letting himself get distracted.

"My assets are frozen, and I have bills to pay." Pansy wrinkled her nose at the mention of that. Bill supposed a woman of her status found the concept of actually have to pay for things distasteful and vulgar. "I'm quite good at spending money, but a lifetime of outrageous wealth hasn't taught me much about managing it. How can I get access to those funds?"

"I'm afraid, Miss Parkinson," he said coolly, "that there isn't much we can do. The Ministry has frozen the accounts of anyone they consider to be known Death Eaters—"

"I was found not guilty!" Pansy exclaimed, then took another angry puff of her cigarette. "They can't—"

"I'm afraid they can, and they have. Although, I believe it was your father who was found guilty, and his estate deemed ill-gotten gains." Bill didn't have the heart to tell her how little money her family had had left before the Ministry got their hands on it. "I haven't got the jurisdiction to do anything about it. I'm very sorry." 

To his surprise, her cool facade cracked, her large, dark eyes filling with tears. Of course, there was a very good chance they weren't genuine. You could never tell with a woman like Pansy Parkinson. "But...I need money. I can't live like a pauper..."

"Surely there are possessions you can sell if you need money." Bill pushed a box of tissues across the desk towards her. "Jewellery? Antiques? Art?" The goblins of Gringotts would pay good money for items of quality, which was the only reason why they bothered dealing with any of the old Pureblood families these days.

Pansy shook her head, then dabbed at her eyes with her free hand, her cigarette still smouldering in the other. "Most of my mother's jewellery was sold off ages ago, and anything else of value has been long gone. I couldn't bear to part with anything that's left. Sentimental value, you know."

It was hard to think of her as being sentimental about anything. Bill supposed it might be true, or more likely, she couldn't bear to part with anything that still made her feel as if she had status.

"Well," Bill said, "at the risk of sounding rude, have ever you considered getting a job to pay off your debts?" 

"Job?" she echoed. The concept of working was pretty much anathema to the wealthier Pureblood families. No doubt a woman of Pansy's ilk would've been raised to be the perfect wife to a rich Pureblood wizard; one who would keep her in the style which she'd been accustomed to rather than encouraging her to have any sort of career. 

"Yes, you know. A _job. Work._. You must have some sort of marketable skills." _Other than shopping or making yourself look beautiful,_ he thought to himself.

"I - I don't know," Pansy admitted. She took another drag on her cigarette, then gracefully flicked ashes into the heavy glass ashtray on the desk. Bill could see her hands were trembling. "I've never thought about it before."

"Didn't you have careers advice from Professor Snape?"

"Of course! He told me I'd make a wonderful hostess once I married Dra— _somebody_." Pansy frowned. "I know how to run a home, throw unforgettable parties, and dazzle the crème of wizarding society. I don't know anything about getting a _job_." Her lip curled in disgust as she uttered the word like a curse.

"Perhaps I can help you with that," Bill blurted. He immediately regretted his words, but his goblin bosses had told him to rectify the situation with Pansy by any means necessary. Of course, knowing them, they had most likely meant by brute force or threats of violence; options Bill was not willing to try. 

Especially not with a woman.

"Could you?" Pansy gazed up at him, her expression one of utter gratitude. Down deep, Bill knew a clever witch like Pansy couldn't possibly be that helpless, and he was probably being played like a well-honed instrument. Then again, he couldn't say 'no' either. Besides, settling her accounts in a timely fashion could only put him in higher regard with his superiors.

"I'm sure if we put our heads together, we can sort out something." He thought he detected a gleam of triumph in her eye, but she just smiled coyly. 

"I can't pay you for your time, Mr. Weasley, but perhaps I can make it up to you some other way," she said lightly, then slid her cigarette between her lips, inhaling one last time until it was completely spent. .

There was no question of what she was offering. Bill felt his body react to _that_ , but forced himself to remain impassive. "I'm sure you can, Miss Parkinson. There's always extra work to be done here at the bank — I'm certain we can find something for you to do in exchange." He raised an eyebrow. "Filing, perhaps?"

That was obviously not the answer she was looking for. Pansy's eyes widened, and she pursed her lips in frustration, but said nothing. Bill had half-expected her to slap him, but was grateful she hadn't.

"Are you free for dinner tonight, Miss Parkinson? I'd be happy to meet you at the Leaky Cauldron discuss your situation. I'm certain we can come up with a solid plan to sort things out." When she didn't answer, he added, "My treat, of course."

Pansy seemed to muse the offer, then finally gave a nod. "Yes, I'd like that very much." Extending her well-manicured hand, she managed out the words, "Thank you, Mr. Weasley. I appreciate your offer, and your assistance."

Bill stood, then shook her hand, liking the way it felt in his own. "It's my pleasure, Miss Parkinson," he said with a smile. "I'm very glad to be of service."


End file.
